Tag Archives: “byron katie”

Doing his job

Now I am applying Byron Katie’s inquiry process to my thoughts about the dog  (we have not abandoned training or expert help). For example, “Finn shouldn’t still be so reactive toward other dogs.”    Is this true? Can I absolutely know it’s true? Of course not. The fact that I wish he’d settle down doesn’t make it so.

How do I feel when I think the thought, “Finn should be over this by now”? The usual: discouraged.

Is there a stress free reason to hang onto the thought? No. There isn’t.

Turn it around: Finn shouldn’t be over this. Finn is doing exactly what he’s supposed to be doing. What if it’s his job to be the way he is? Or, by the way, for my sister to be the way she is?  

 

‘all great words lead to silence’

The snow storm that they canceled half of school for today has not materialized. Light wet flakes are falling, but nothing sticks.

I heard a WBUR interview on ‘speaking of faith’ a while back and took notes while driving (but I don’t text, really I don’t!!). It was about language and prayer. Stephen Mitchell was one author who spoke (Roberta Bondi was another). He has translated major spiritual and literary works, including a Book of Psalms, the Tao Te Ching, letters of Rainer Maria Rilke, Gilgamesh, the Book of Job, and the Bhagavad Gita. Given that he spends his time with the most amazing of texts, I was particularly impressed that he said, ‘all great words lead to silence’.

In looking him up online, I was reminded that he is married to Byron Katie, whom I’ve mentioned before, whom I read often. In fact, he coauthored the book I consider essential, these days, to chucking some of my baggage: “Loving What Is”.

Funny how things connect, or show up, like the window and glass ball in this photograph.  Without my glasses on this morning and using the auto mode of the camera, I didn’t see the reflection until I downloaded the picture.  So there they are —  the surprise connections — two sources of inspiration married to one another, and one frame opening up into another.  Somehow, they read like signs of hope.